How To Catch A Killer
by Adar
Summary: Something has been terrorizing the inhabitants of the Canadian Shield, and has trickled over into the United States. The Pack has worked with great effort to try and put an end to the spread of the murders leaking across the border. Perhaps Elizabeth Danvers, professor and criminologist will be able to solve the case. After all, it does take a killer to catch one.
1. Chapter 1

"My name is Elizabeth Danvers. I was born on April 18th, 1975, which makes me an Aries. I love _caramel fleur de sel_ flavoured macaroons. They just know how to hit the spot."

"Ms Danvers, I really wished you would take this seriously." The shrink said, sitting in front of me. All right, so she was a really good psychologist according to my boss. He strongly recommended I come check this lady out. Supposedly I have a lot of pent up rage, which is not too good. He wants to have fully capable and functional employees when September rolls around. Every summer, he suggests we see a psychologist to rid ourselves of all the stress we accumulated throughout the year. I suppose being a university professor is not an easy thing, but I never complained. Teaching criminology 400 did not faze me in the least. I rather enjoyed teaching the course. Getting into a killer's mind and exposing it to my students was a challenging and fascinating process. I suppose everything comes easily when what you teach is embedded in your genetic code.

"Listen Ms…" Squinting my eyes, I stared at the name plate sitting on her rather garnish desk. "Ms. D'Ambrosio. While I appreciate the concern you have for my fellow colleagues and myself, there is nothing wrong with me. I am positively dandy really. I have nothing to share besides another brilliant year with fabulous students." I crossed one leg over the other, staring directly at the woman on the other side of the desk. "Can you just sign the 'I am sane of mind' slip so I can get back to grading a few remaining papers sitting on my own desk?"

The woman's eyes hardened. Okay, perhaps that was a wrong move, but I was getting really frustrated, and I did have a lot of work to get back to. Her writing hand clenched and unclenched. Finally, she gave up, grabbed a pen and signed a yellow slip of paper, which she handed back to me. "I will see you before school starts for a final evaluation." Whatever, I would take it for now. I had bigger fish to fry.

"Thank you Ms D'Ambrosio" I smiled sweetly, showing her my pearly whites. Taking the note, I left her office, a small gait in my step. I could not stand closed in, stuffy offices. This is why I insisted on having large windows in my office near large trees. It was one of the clauses in my contract. I promptly left the psych department, and made my way across campus to where my office was.

The building was a beautiful edifice, modelled after the country homes of lords and ladies in the 1820s. The university grounds actually belonged to James McGill up until 1821 when his holdings were turned into a university, and became one of the oldest universities in Canada. I had been working in Montreal for the last five years, establishing myself as a young, but successful university professor. It kind of ran in the family. My father was somewhat of a teacher, and my older brother was a professor of anthropology. I really looked up to my older brother growing up, and I remember wanting to be just like him. What I wished to be is not too far from the truth. However, I do have far better social skills that my brother.

I crossed McTavish and made my way over to Peel where I walked up the steps into an older, yet modest looking building in comparisons to the very modern apartment complexes facing it. Up the front steps and a series of winding steps, I made my way to my office, my footfalls causing the old floorboards to creek. Opening the door to my office, I let my little cocoon of comfort envelop me. Shelves of books lining an entire wall and a small desk in front of a bay window, which allowed me to look out onto a small plot of grass with a large tree, made me smile. I must not forget to mention the pots of elephant ear plants dispersed throughout the office. I was really living in a small bower. How could I possibly feel any type of stress living in such an environment? I secretly think my students liked to visit me for the opportunity to escape the busy hustle and bustle of modern life.

Sitting at my desk, I peered down at my phone. The red light on the device was blinking. Pressing the rewind button, followed by the play button, I selected a blue pen from my cup of writing devices to record the messages I had missed while I had been locked up with the shrink. My TA calling in sick, department meeting, request for next session's syllabus outline, and a call from Clayton.

"Hey sis," his deep southern voice drawled over the answering machine "I hope you're keeping out of trouble. I'm calling about a case. We are working on something and we are encountering some difficulties. We could really use some extra help. Jeremy would really appreciate your input. Call when you get home. I have faxed you the specifics."

Translation for those who did not know Clayton: _Hey baby sister, it's Clay! I hope you are doing all right. We have been working really hard on that case I mentioned to you last time. Something has us stumped, and we could really use your super brain to help solve this one. The unknown subject is particularly hard to figure out. Your dad can't even crack this. Since killers are your expertise, we think you could really help us understand this creep. Call when you get home to let me know you got this message, and so that we can discuss this further. I have faxed over some brief yet cryptic information for your eyes only. Miss you._

My brother is a man of few words, very few words. Everything about Clay was short and to the point. He should never have to lower himself to your level. Instead, you had to raise yourself to his. With years spent growing up with him, I have learnt to read between the lines. He is rough around the edges, but he is really sweet when it comes to his family. His problem are those outside of our Pack. He does not do well with outsiders.

I took the five papers I had left to grade off my desk, and gently slid them into my messenger bad with my agenda. I slung it across my chest, and made sure to lock my office door behind me on my way out. I sped walked up Peel, no easy feat for a normal individual since McGill University is built on Mount Royal, towards Pine Avenue. I lived off the mountain, off of Pine, in a small yet gorgeous apartment. I greeted the doorman, and took the stairs up to the ninth floor. It was one of the many ways I employed to get rid of all the excess energy of my kind. Jogging twice a day also helped. Track and field was the only extracurricular sport I was allowed to do in high school and university. Finding enough food to sustain me throughout the day was the tricky part. I could not simply go hunting on Mount Royal. All I would get would be rabbits and squirrels. Even though I would never turn my head from an excellent morsel of rabbit, sometimes, I just needed deer. There was nothing like good deer.

"Babe" I called as I entered the apartment. I set my bag down on the small table near the entrance. I noted Leo's keys lying in the blue key bowl with his dog print keychain keeping them linked. It was an inside joke on my part. He knew what I was, and he was okay with it. I told him two years ago and he embraced it easily: I was a werewolf. He had jokingly said how it explained A LOT about my personality. I remember rolling my eyes at him. What struck me the most though and meant the world to me was that he never ran. After five years of knowing me, and four of those five spent being romantically involved with me, he never left. Either it was true love, or he was really stupid. Sometimes the latter made me feel more secure, like I was not dreaming in a fairy tale. Creatures like me were not meant to find happiness that easily. My mother was killed a few months after my birth, and my brother struggled a lot with his mate Elena. I kept waiting for something bad to happen to my relationship.

I walked into the kitchen to see Leo busy working on an article at the kitchen table. He sat there, deep in concentration. I took a moment to admire him. He hated it when I admired him; he said it made him feel self-conscious. Being a predator and being proud of him, I could not help it. Leo had been a rugby player from his early years in high school until the end of his recent university degree. After two years, he still managed to upkeep his physique by playing occasionally in small league. Leo was 5'9"; broad shouldered, and had wavy wheat blond hair. Where he was large and fair, I was petite and dark. I did not inherit my father's gene for height. I was small, like my mother had been, and I was small in built. Yet, I made up for much of it in fight and personality. Napoleon complex, my father would often tease.

I walked up behind Leo and wrapped my arms around his neck, placing my head on his shoulder. He jumped slightly, but regained his composure quickly. Rubbing my forearm affectionately, he continued editing a printed draft of his article. I nuzzled my face into his neck, kissing him lightly.

"Busy?" I asked, nipping at his ear. Moving his head away, he turned it slightly to stare at me with his deep brown eyes.

"Depends, what are you offering as an alternative?" he replied, a slow easy grin spreading across his face. I loved that smile. I swatted him lightly and took a seat next to him. Removing my shoes, I placed my feet in his lap where he unconsciously began to rub them. "I am reworking a piece on our medical system. It's about how there isn't enough bed in the emergencies to greet patients and how hospitals are seriously understaffed. Good?"

"Absolutely" I grinned. He smiled jubilantly and scratched something else out with his HB pencil. Leo got so excited when he figured out a problem and was on the way to creating something incredible. He was a very talented journalist who worked at LaPresse. I was very proud of his accomplishments.

"By the way, your brother and your father both called. Your brother said it was urgent, and your father said to call him when you got a chance" Leo quirked an eyebrow at me. I laughed, typical Clay. "And they faxed something over. From what your dad explained briefly to me, poor mortal that I am, it sounds like they really need you."

"Yeah. Sometimes I wonder if telling you about my extracurricular work was such a good idea."

"I was and still is. Although, that doesn't stop me from worrying about your sorry little ass." He chuckled, kissing my forehead before getting up to go to the fridge. "I do sleep better at night knowing there are fewer psychopaths and/or sociopaths."

"You are so loving" I stretched in my seat, hearing Leo chuckle as he went about searching for ingredients to make our dinner. I was a horrible cook, something my dad never thought of as being an important skill to hone. While normal girls baked, I was sent to self-defence and kickboxing classes. He was adamant about me learning how to defend myself. I shook my limbs and walked over to the fax machine to see what exactly my father had sent over.

I stared down at the sheets of paper, deciphering the message. I picked up on a few things, the in between the lines. It hit me like a ton of bricks.

"Oh my gosh…" my hand went up to cover my mouth. Leo stopped working in the kitchen. He walked up to stand beside me.

"Everything okay love?"

"The un-sub is killing pregnant mothers."


	2. Chapter 2

I never enjoyed flying. It had nothing to do with a fear of heights, a fear of dying, or the uncomfortable feeling of being trapped in an oversized food can. You might think that being a natural born predator who loved to roam free, I would be affected by the aforementioned issues. That is not the case. My dislike of flying had nothing to do with fear, but rather everything to do with the number of times I had been forced to fly as a child.

Growing up and being the only female werewolf at the time was not as hyped out as it might sound. My father made sure I went to the best of schools, but he also made sure they were far away from Stonehaven. Far away according to my father meant in a different country, and preferably, on a different continent. He did not want me home because of Malcolm. He did not want anyone to know about me. No one did.

I used to believe it was because he did not want me, like he had been forced into this role of fatherhood against his will. Clayton set me straight on that front on numerous occasions. My father was not crazy about me being far away from home, and neither was I. He hated being apart from me, and I from him. He was my dad. As a result, I spent elementary school in Montreal, and high school in France. My post-secondary studies took me even further away from home.

However, I always loved coming home. Despite spending most of my life away from Bear Valley, I always felt like there was a part of me missing. At Stonehaven, I felt complete. I would go running and camping with Clay, and I would curl up with my dad on the couch where I could watch him translate texts. I loved to watch him work, my small body folded into his side, as his long fingers would skim the pages of manuscripts. I suppose it came as no surprise that I learnt various languages at an early age. Of Malcolm I saw very little. I did see him though, and I never felt anything but a strong sense of loathing for him. His eyes would gleam up with an emotion I would rather not think of, every time he saw me. I suppress my memories of him.

Flipping through more documents my father had faxed me; I closed my eyes in frustration. A killer who went after pregnant women sounded a lot like Malcolm, but Malcolm had disappeared several years ago. I suspected Clay had something to do with that. We never spoke of it, but there was an underlying feeling whenever the topic of Malcolm broached a conversation.

What kind of monster would attack indefensible women? I shuddered to think of what kind of creature is capable of such an act. I kept hearing screams emanating from some deep recess of my mind.

I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands. Think Liz, think! The seatbelt sign went on. Soon we would be landing, and my head was still as muddled as it had been since I received my father's call. For some reason, this case was getting to me and I did not know why. Maybe I should have insisted Leo join me. He was always good at keeping my mind trained on target. I could have really used him on this case, especially since he was an excellent fact checker. Yet, I did not want to bring him. He had asked, but I insisted he stay behind to continue working on his article.

The plane hit the ground smoothly, slowly coming to a halt. I unbuckled my seat belt and replaced the documents into my messenger bag. Here we go, I thought as I stepped off the plane. Without looking up at the large signs hanging from the ceiling, I made my way to luggage claim, my body moving in response to memory and habit. I spotted my large red Mountain Equipment Coop duffle bag and hoisted it onto my left shoulder. Adjusting the weight, I walked into the greeting section. My eyes scanned the perimeter, searching for a shock of blond hair, or hair so alike my own.

"Hey Danvers!" I stopped in my tracks and scanned the small crowd. Not many people take a red eye at this time to such a small area of the state. My eyes settled on a lean 6'1" man with dark brown hair and matching eyes. My body went rigid. Out of all the volunteers who could have come to pick me up from the airport, they had to send Nick Sorrentino. I grumbled and made my way over to him, none to happy with this arrangement. With every step I took towards him, I made sure to slow the sudden spike in my pulse.

"Nick" I nodded, hands wrapped around the strap of my duffle, clinging onto it as if it were my lifeline. I should have brought Leo.

"What? Is this all I get? A nod?" he asked with a wide smile. I set my bag down as he enveloped me in a powerful hug, bringing my body flush up against his solid frame. Then his mouth found my neck…

"Okay Nick, that is quite enough" I said, pushing him away with both of my hands placed on his firm chest. "We've been over this."

"No Liz, you've been over this" he replied. Nick picked up my bag before I got a chance to get it myself, and started to walk towards the exit. I had to jog to catch up with him. The benefit of being tall is the longer strides. My height did not allow this.

As Nick placed my bag in the back of the truck, I got into the passenger side of the vehicle. Wringing my hands, my mind raced wildly. Last time I was this alone with Nick, he broke my heart. The driver door opened and Nick slid into the seat next to me. The sky was still dark outside and the only light in the car came from the dashboard as he placed the key into the ignition. The car roared to life, and Nick eased the large vehicle out of the parking space.

"So, uh, I guess I should thank you for coming to get me. I know you probably would have preferred to-" I started slowly, searching for the right words to fill the void.

"I volunteered" Nick said. Despite the poor lighting, I could hear the smile in his deep voice. "I wanted to be the first person to see you."

"Nick, you can't speak to me like that" I grimaced, stilling my twitchy hands in my lap.

"Why not? We've always been able to talk to each other this way. Why should we change now?" he asked. I could hear his hands tighten on the leather steering wheel.

"Because we have changed; I have changed. I can't go back" I replied simply, my voice sounding small to my own ears. I cleared my throat. "So this case…?"

"Pretty sick if you ask me. Something is not right in the supernatural world when people start going after pregnant women. It's just not right. It takes a whole lot of crazy to pull that kind of shit. What we know so far is that this person is definitely not acting alone. To mobilize that many numbers in casualties in such a short time frame, there has to be more than one person. There have been some minor incidents in different states, but the unsubs as you call them, are slowly making their way to the U.S.-Canadian border. The last thing we need is for it to attract any international attention."

"Right. Do we have any pictures I can see, or crime scenes we can visit?"

"Yeah… there is a crime scene about seven hours outside of Bear Valley. We'll go once you've rested"

"I don't need rest Nick. This is what I do in life besides talk a lot behind a podium. I specialize in obsessional, violent crimes. If this unsub, the leader, is orchestrating repeated murders in the same fashion, we are definitely looking at an obsessional crime. I need to see the crime scene as soon as possible before the feds get involved." Nick gave a warm chuckle. I turned my face to look at him, eyes seeking him out in the near darkness. His callused hand came up to cup my cheek. My pulse jumped into my throat.

"Bumble bee, you need your rest. Calm that overactive mind of yours. There will be plenty of time to visit the site tomorrow. By the way, it's nice to see you too" I pulled my face away from his touch, and turned to face the passenger window. I really missed Leo.

* * *

I opened my eyes and stared at a lilac wall. I could feel the cold spot next to me, and remembered I was no longer in Montréal. Sitting up, I stretched my still sleeping limbs. I took my hair elastic and piled my thick curls into a messy bun on top of my head. I brought the heels of my wrists to my eyes as bloody images of mangled human bodies swam up from my subconscious. It was time to tackle another day and move on with this troubling case. The faster this would wrap up, the faster I could leave those plaguing images behind. I would never admit to it, but they triggered the stench of blood in my brain. I was a few months old when my mother was viciously murdered, but the smell had imprinted itself on me. It was something I could not shake. This case was starting to get to me, and it was only day two.

Easing myself off the mattress, I righted my pyjama shirt and pulled on a pair of jogging pants. I eased my room door open quietly. I am an early riser, and I was consciously aware that not every in this home is. Slowly, on the tips of my toes, I made my way down the wooden stairs, and into the kitchen. My father, Jeremy Danvers sat at the table, coffee in one hand, and newspaper in the other.

"Hey daddy" I grinned, stooping to give him a kiss. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. My father was not big on displaying affection. I think part of that died when my mother did. Clayton said he was never the same after that.

"How was your flight?" he asked, folding the paper and setting it aside.

"Uneventful" I answered. Pulling up a chair next to him, I took a seat.

"Why didn't you bring Leo?"

"He has a lot of work to do and I wasn't sure how the others would have taken it with him being here", which was true. My father, Clayton, and Elena were the only ones who had met Leo, and liked him instantly. That means a lot, especially coming from Clayton. Leo had come to Stonehaven on a few occasions, and he had met my immediate family. It was not so important for him to meet everyone else. Plus, it was different this time; we were working on a supernatural case. It would have been awkward for him.

"I suppose that makes sense. I'm sorry to have pulled you away from anything important back home"

"Please, this IS my home, and I love to help whenever I can. Anyways, I was sort of missing you, just a little" he smiled at me then, a true smile. "Can I make you pancakes? I swear I am getting better. Leo says he adores them."

"I think Leo is being overly kind since he is living with you."

"Am I detecting some sarcasm on behalf of papa Danvers? You know, dad, I could always get Clay to make breakfast," I teased, standing and pulling out a frying pan from a drawer. My dad gave a little shudder and I laughed. It's moments like these that make me realize just how much I missed him.

Several heavy footsteps pounded down the stairs, which meant one thing: hungry werewolves were awake. Elena, Clay, and Nick made their way into the kitchen. Clay scooped me up into a bear hug which I returned full heartedly. He was another person who was not fond of PDA, but I was his little sister. I was the exception to the rule. Elena hugged me too; I sidestepped Nick.

"Everyone good with pancakes?" I asked. The reply was a unanimous and resounding yes. I pulled out the flour, eggs, milk, and sugar. "So I looked over the files you sent via fax, and had a chance to muddle over some other elements when I got here earlier this morning. Right off the bat, just by looking at the case with a cursory glance, I can tell you that it is definitely cult-like in nature. I think that is the angle we should go with."

"Liz, we just woke up. Eat first, case later" Clay said, sitting down at the table.

"So how is work? How is Leo?" Elena asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

"Haha! Well, work is fine as always. I have a particularly bright group of students this semester. I had them already for the intro course, and they decided to stick around for part two. Since they are so engaging and absorb everything, I had to reconstruct the course just for them. It's exciting because it allows me bring up some really interesting cases for analysis and theories."

"Wait, so who is Leo?" Nick interjected. Clay and Elena turned to look at him like he had an extra eye on his forehead.

"You don't know who Leo is?" Elena smirked.

"He's Liz's long-term boyfriend," Clay replied, "because Liz is a big girl now. He's quite the man since he was able to pin this firecracker down." My face turned a deep shade of red as Nick's drained of colour.

"Define long-term," he said, staring directly at me.

"We've known each other for five years, and dated four out of those five" I said, glaring at Clay.

"Aw 'c'mon Liz! Nick is just jealous because he is still stuck on this girl he met in Hawaii five years ago. She really did a number on him," Clay said. It was rare that Clay ever got this playful, but when it came to Nick, everything was fair game.

"I never said I was stuck on her. Anyways, that was five years ago, and things apparently change. However, she recently came back into the picture. So I think I might try my hand once more if she is willing." Nick's eyes bored into mine.

"What if she is not willing, then what?" Clay and Elena had zoned out at this point, and were talking to Jeremy about transportation to the crime scene.

"Oh, she's willing" he grinned playfully. His eyes fell to my left hand that was holding the frying pan. On my left ring finger was a simple white gold band with three inlaid Hawaiian flowers.

"Clay, I pretty much finished the batter, but I lost my appetite. Can you finish frying these? I am going to get ready for the long car drive. Dad, I shotgun riding with you." I left them in the kitchen, and made my way back upstairs.

Locked in my room, I stared at the ring on my finger. Leo had always asked about it, but I had never been able to tell him, or part with it. I went to take it off. My right hand stopped just as I was about to remove the band from my finger.

Damn Nick!

I shoved the ring back on in frustration. Marching into the bathroom, I grabbed my dark skinny jeans and a grey t-shirt. I knew why I loved coming home, but now I remembered why I also hated it.


	3. Chapter 3

"Is everything alright Liz?" my dad asked, breaking the silence as we drove down the highway towards the crime scene. We were less than two hours away from our destination.

"Yeah, I'm fine" I mumbled, leafing through the case file that was spread across my lap. "We are going to have to talk to the police about this dad. If this isn't the first murder, then they will definitely have pulled information from other stations. Worse case, the FBI special victims unit will be called in."

"I hoped we might be able to avoid that," Jeremy grumbled. I rubbed his arm affectionately.

"Dad, if they are there, you should leave the talking to me. I've had to work with the police before."

"Liz, you are not a cop. You don't have a gun, or badge. What good will you interfering do?"

"Dad, you underestimate your daughter. I am a highly specialized consult. They will have me on file."

"That is not what I meant when I asked you to not draw attention to yourself."

"Relax, they know nothing about you. My only known listed, living relative is grand-papa. I haven't mentioned anything about the Pack. Anyways, you look young enough to be a cousin, not my dad. It'll be fine." My fingers pulled out a Polaroid of a woman lying, spread-eagled on the ground, her stomach slit open. There was blood everywhere, so much of it. I looked at the sigils written across what used to be her swollen belly. There were more of those etchings written on the concrete. "These pictures come from a different crime scene, correct?"

"Yes"

"Did you call Paige?" I asked, bringing the photograph closer to my eyes.

"No"

"She would have been great help on deciphering these symbols."

"Can't you do it?" I laughed as his gaze slid sideways to look at me.

"Yes I can," I replied, "but it still would have been nice to get a second opinion. Paige and Lucas do know more about dead languages than I do. However, this seems to look like ancient Sumerian."

"Good or bad?"

"Do you want the Wikipedia version? If I read those symbols correctly, it doesn't look good. But it's confusing… they are fertility symbols. Why fertility symbols?" I tapped the photo against my lips, lost in thought. Why would the un-sub use ancient Sumerian fertility symbols, but kill pregnant women? It made no sense. "I need to look at the crime scene. When the police get there, I will refer to you as Jeremy. You can be my partner, or assistant. You can choose."

"Yes ma'am" my dad nodded. "It's interesting to see you work," he added after a moment of stretched silence between us.

"What do you mean?"

"You change, but it keeps you focused. It hones your mind. The ability you have to slip into an un-sub's skin is frightening from what I've seen on previous cases."

"Dad, it's perfectly normal. I need to slip into the way they think in order to understand them better; to understand their motive."

"I just keep thinking back to the Turner case, and how it changed you."

"That was a particular bloody and gory case dad. Again, it's normal."

"You came out of there covered in blood, and your eyes-"

"Okay, let's move on please. I don't particularly go back and review cases unless they are related to another one, or a case study I do with my students. The Turner case fits neither. Please ask me something that is not related to killers. I know my line of job occasionally upsets you, a lot. Yet, if the day ever comes when I do become like any of those killers I research late at night, then put me down. So, please ask me something that is not related to this if you want to talk." I sighed in exasperation. Coming home also meant arguing about what I did for a living. My father had spent years trying to hide me from the rest of the world. What did I do? Choose a job that puts me in direct contact with killers, some of who would jump at the occasion to destroy me. My dad calmly switched lanes.

"Is everything alright? You seemed a bit on edge ever since you came home. Did something happen between you and Nick?" Crap. Switch one uncomfortable subject for another.

"Everything is alright. We just had a bit of a skirmish. Contrary to belief, Nick and I are not friends. We never were." I reached over and pressed the volume control on the car stereo. Music slowly bubbled out of the old car speakers. The rest of the car ride was spent in total silence.

* * *

Seven hours away from Stonehaven was really the middle of nowhere. We had to turn onto a dirt road off the main highway, and drive for thirty minutes, following bends and dips in the path until we reached an abandoned cottage. I noticed a few cop cars spread out around the perimeter. I pulled out my blazer from the back seat, and slipped it on. I fiddled around in my bag before I found my badge. It wasn't an official police badge, but one that gave me clear range. As I said before, I am a highly specialized consult who is often called in by the Canadian and American government on special cases. It comes with having dual citizenship, and being excellent at what I do.

My dad frowned as I clipped my badge onto my belt. I unlocked my door, slung my bag across my chest, and slid out of the pick up. I made my way over to the detective who seemed to be in charge. He was easy to pick out in his nicely pressed pants, crisp button down, and leather jacket. The others were dressed in their police uniforms. I approached the detective as he finished giving off a directive to one of the officers. He turned slightly to look at me. His gaze travelled the length of my body before returning to rest on my face. A slow, easy smile splayed itself across his face.

"Detective, I am Elizabeth Danvers, special consult and criminologist, specializing in obsessional crimes," I smiled brightly while flashing my badge.

"Detective Decco," he said, stretching his hand out so I could shake it.

"I was called in early this morning about this case. What can you tell me about it?"

"Well Ms Danvers, whoever did this is one sick son of a bitch."

"I can't agree with you more. From what the agent told me over the phone, we are dealing with one sick puppy. However, I will need to get in there to assess the issue."

"Not much assessing needed here."

"I know, but its procedure," I smiled, flipping my hair over my shoulder.

"Then fire away"

"I will, and so will my team. We will be out of your hair as soon as possible." I waved over to where Jeremy, Elena, Clay, and Nick stood. I sidestepped the detective, walked up the stairs of the house, and passed under the yellow tape that barred the door. Retrieving my camera out of my bag, I eased the door to the cottage open.

The stench of death and blood was overwhelming. I tried hard not to backpedal out of the house and gag. Bile rose into my mouth and I forced it back down. I uncapped the lens and began to snap pictures of the walls, the ceiling, and the floor. The blood was everywhere. Dry in some places, still dripping in others. There were five women, all dead with their stomachs slit open at differing ends of a pentagram engraved into the hardwood floor. Again, the same Sumerian symbols were drawn across what remained of the women's bellies. All of this was strange: the Sumerian fertility symbols, and the pentagram, a symbol of protection in Wiccan lore.

I heard the rest of my team and family enter the cottage. Clay and Jeremy were the only ones who stayed inside. Elena and Nick had to step outside for air. I crouched down near one of the bodies. She had both of her eyes burned with what smelled like acid. I took out my voice recorder and hit record.

"Five women were all sacrificed by the un-sub. I use the term sacrifice because that is what the layout suggests. Motive is still a little unclear. The un-sub used ancient Sumerian fertility symbols and a pentagram in what seems to be a ritual. The symbols were painted onto the mangled stomachs of the pregnant women, and the pentagram is a symbol of protection. The eyes are missing. The un-sub did not want to be seen." I took out a pair of rubber gloves and gently parted the stomach flesh. I swallowed. "The foetus is missing. Judging by the size of the belly, the mothers seem to have been close to seven months into their pregnancy." Sitting on my haunches, I sat staring at the corpse in front of me. I closed my eyes and cleared my mind of all thoughts. I stood slowly and made my way to the centre of the circle. "Two werewolf pups, one witch, one shaman, and… vampire?" My dad looked up at me.

"What?"

"These women were pregnant with werewolves, a witch, a shaman, and a vampire. If you pay close enough attention and get close enough to the corpses, you can still smell them. All of the victims were witches, but the last one… the last one was pregnant with some sort of vampire hybrid, which makes no sense. None of this makes sense." I pressed the record button on my voice recorder to stop the device. I then pulled off my gloves in frustration. None of these pieces fell into place. Nothing made any sense. "I'll take more pictures, and then we need to leave. I need someplace to think quietly."

"I will circle the perimeter with Elena and Nick. Clay, stay with Liz," my dad said. He left. Clay came to stand next to me.

"What are we looking at exactly?" he asked, cold disgust and confusion writ in his eyes.

"For the first time Clay, I don't know. We can't leave this place though. I will need to go to the morgue and talk with specialist there once the bodies have been cleaned and examined." I took the remaining pictures I needed. "Clay, check the kitchen out. I'll go upstairs."

We parted ways. I walked up the stairs and came to a long hall that led to several rooms on either side. I followed my nose, giving some rooms a cursory look, and others more attention. It was in one of the later that my attention was drawn to the bookcase. Books, several books on criminology, biology, genetics, and a small grimoire were left behind. Whoever the un-sub was, he wanted us to find him; he was clearly toying with us. Smells, far too many smells were cramped into this small room. It was hard to pick them apart, but I could definitely pick up on the scent of witch, the five dead ones downstairs.

I took a picture of the room, scoped it out for any bodily clues, and returned downstairs to where Clay was waiting for me. He told me he found empty cigarette packets and a fridge that still contained unused beer bottles. Nothing else. I felt like I needed a drink myself.

* * *

After a long shower, I slipped into a pair of underwear and one of Leo's old McGill t-shirts. We had stopped at a motel off the main highway after supper at some run of the mill diner. I sat down on my bed, case file spread across the comforter. Detective Decco promised me the rest of the file tomorrow morning. For now, I was just relooking at what we had pieced together pre-crime scene visit with the photos I had taken at the crime scene. Frustration burned like a white-hot iron. I was tired and angry. I was not going to solve this case tonight.

Reaching over for the phone, I picked up the receiver, cradled it between my head and shoulder, and dialled Leo. He picked up after three rings.

"Hello?" his deep voice sounded groggy.

"Hey babe" I smiled tiredly, the sound of his voice a warm blanket to hide me against uncertainties.

"Liz? It's like… 1h00 a.m. Are you okay?" he asked. I could hear the bed sheets move as he sat up in bed, his hand searching for the lamp on the night table.

"Yeah, I just missed the sound of your voice."

"Liz, it's been like, two days since we last saw each other."

"I know, but I've missed you like crazy, and this case is driving me a little nuts. Nothing makes sense anymore." I vented, lying down. I grabbed one of the pillows and hugged it to my chest. "I wish you were here with me, holding me."

"I wish I was there with you too, holding you."

"How come you know the right things to say?"

"Hmmm, because I know you very well, I have a brain, and I love you."

"So you just say things you think I want to hear."

"Yup, but I do love you, and mean the silly things I say because I know you need to hear them."

"Just like me saying I want to do dirty things to that glorious body of yours?" I smiled, biting down on my lower lip.

"Reverse psychology. Damn your mean."

"I love you too lover."

"Haha! Suuuure. Now about the case, what exactly is stumping you?" Leo demanded, his journalist mind starting to turn on. I ran through the main points of what I discovered today and waited as he pieced everything together. "This is a strange case. Is this an isolated situation, or has this happened in other places as well?"

"It's happened seven other times before in completely different areas. There is nothing connecting any of them."

"You sure? Look at the victims. All witches you said? Did you check to see where these women came from? The un-sub may have targeted specific covens. I know your friend Paige deals primarily with THE coven, but there may be a strong possibility that there are other covens out there who preferred to be on their own." I bolted upright in bed.

"Leo, hold that thought babe." I whipped open my laptop, and punched the power button. After two minutes, I opened up an Internet search for covens throughout the U.S. "There isn't much I can go on because the detective is supposed to hand me the entirety of the files tomorrow morning."

"Just make sure you are wearing pants when you answer the door. I wouldn't want him staring at my goods while I'm not there to protect them."

"You can't see me right now, but I am rolling my eyes at you." Leo chuckled on the other end of the line. I typed the names of the victims into my search engine, courtesy of Paige Winterbourne and Lucas Cortez. "Leo, you are amazing. Each set of five witches originated from different covens across the States. One member from each set of five originally came from Massachusetts."

"Boston?"

"Nope, Salem, because this world believes in coincidences and stereotypes. I guess after tomorrow, I am going to Salem."

"Happy witch hunting"

"You are so not funny, and that is sort of offensive."

"But funny."

"Would you like to come with me?"

"On a case? Me? Are you sure it wouldn't be too dangerous?" he all but giggled. I really did roll my eyes at him then. He had been with me on several different minor cases, and even wrote articles on some of them. "I guess I could always come down and meet you there. I want to stop by a gift store though to pick up one of those silly t-shirts."

"Thank God there aren't any with werewolves on them. I think I might smack you." There was a sudden knock at my door. "Babe, I need to go, but I'll call you tomorrow." I got off the phone and walked to the door. "Who is it?"

"It's Nick, I noticed your light was still on." I opened the door enough so that I could stick my head out. Nick stood there, a huge smile on his face, and his hair tussled.

"Nick, are you inebriated?" I asked, looking up and down the hall.

"No, just awesome. Today was tough. I needed to let off some steam." He said, bracing both of his hands on the doorframe.

"You could have gone for a run instead, it would have had the same exhilarating effect."

"I did. It didn't work. What I need is…" he stared at me, his eyes clearing for a second. He shoved the door open, putting me off balance. He came in and closed it behind him.

"Nick, you need to leave before you do something you will regret" I held both of my hands up, an act of both defence and as a means to indicate that I meant no harm. "Nick, I am in a good place now. I don't need you and the drama that comes with you."

"What do you mean?"

"Nick, I lost my virginity to you when I was seventeen and pined after you until four years ago. I realized that you were just stringing me along, using me whenever you had an itch."

"No, that's not it."

"Really? So being a secret for four years is okay to you? I though Hawaii was going to be a break through, but all it did was take us three steps back. I loved Hawaii because we could be ourselves out in the open. If you want us, think back to then, because that is all we will ever have. The only reason I am here is to work on this case, not to be with you. I have a wonderful boyfriend back home who loves me, and who I adore. He is not afraid to be seen with me in public. Hopefully, one day, he will ask me to marry him because I do believe in this whole mate bullshit Clay buys into. So do me a favour, stop following me, stop pressuring me. Stop antagonizing me. I am twenty-five years old. Let me live my life without you." Out of breath, I stared at him, my chest heaving. He stared back at me, mouth parted.

"Why didn't you ever tell me any of this?"

"It was hard to talk to you when you could shut me up with a kiss. Nick, you never let me get a few serious words in. Then you started seeing other women. How was I supposed to react?"

"You are going to tell me that you never dated a guy your age while doing things with me on the side?"

"No! I was in love with you." Silence stretched between us, and I desperately wanted to take those words back. I never wanted him to know how I felt. Leo had picked up the pieces of my broken heart too many times before he told me to cut all ties with Nick. Nick was a disease, and a deadly one at that. I could not stay near him. I did not want to stay near him because I was afraid of what I might do. I was attracted to him in too many different ways. Leo was too good to me. I could not do that to him. "I need to go, and I want you to stay away from me."

I pulled on the pair of jeans I had discarded earlier on my duffle, yanked a sweatshirt over my head, and slammed my feet into my running shoes. I had to get out. I had to get away from Nick.

"You can stay here tonight, but I want you gone when I come back." I closed the door to my motel room behind me, and left, running. I needed to Change. I needed to get as far away from civilization as possible. I needed Leo.

I wanted to go home to him. I wanted to escape the blood, the musings going on in my head, the what ifs. I needed to run away from it all. Tomorrow I would focus on the carnage I saw today. Tomorrow I would go back to being the cold-blooded killer I was. Now, I to get away from it all.


End file.
